What Friends Are For
by EricFancier
Summary: Harry is having nightmares. Luckily, Ron is there. A slashy PWP-short. Rated M for a reason.


There were two main reasons to why Ron Weasley couldn't sleep. As he lay there under the duvet, stark naked except for his gray cotton boxers, arms reached up and hands knitted under his head, those reasons were gnawing at him like termites trying to destroy the foundation of a house. He had been staring at the folds in the Gryffindor-red cloths that hung from the canopy of his bed for an eternity and a half. Thoughts of the immense darkness that now seemed to slowly crawl closer, surrounding him, everyone he loved and all of the wizarding world, had forced him to abandon the idea of a good night's sleep. Also, it was a bit tricky to fall asleep to begin with, when your best mate was battling what seemed to be a particularly violent nightmare just a few steps away from you.

Ron sighed and rolled around to his side, gazing through the drawn-back curtains into Harry's bed. Pale moonlight was seeping in through the dorm windows, allowing him to see the contour of his friend. Harry was trashing about in a tangled mess of sweat and sheets, clearly trying to fight off some horror that Ron could only imagine. All the muscles in his face were tense as well as his fists, and frightened moans and nonsense spilled over his lips. He was scared and probably in pain, and the knowledge of it formed a black, empty hole in Ron's stomach. Although Neville was snoring as loudly as any night, Ron feared that Harry might wake the others soon, and he knew how much he hated that... hated to cause others discomfort, hated to be the cause of other people's worry. He just had to be so bloody _noble_ all the time.

Ron cursed silently under his breath and crawled out of his own bed in a very ungraceful manner, wincing slightly as the chilly air embraced his naked skin. He moved as quiet as possibly over the cold stone floor, seating himself onto the edge of Harry's bed. He closed the curtains around them in a vain attempt to muffle the sounds Harry was making. Harry's fists were digging into the duvet as if in fury, and Ron was sure that he soon was going to find one of them in his face if he didn't watch it. He bit his lower lip and leant over the raven-haired boy, grasping his bare shoulders, and shaking them gently.

"Harry? It's me... you're dreaming, mate." Ron whispered as loud as he dared. Harry was trembling now, his eyes still shut tight and his head rocking from side to side. Ron clutched at his friend's feverish skin, shaking him a little harsher.

"Wake up, Harry, you must wake up now..." he managed, trying not to stare at Harry's naked chest and wondering how much more of him that was naked. _This is not the bloody time for that_, he thought, infuriated with himself. There would probably never come a time for it, and it sure as hell wasn't now, anyway. Ron firmly turned his eyes to Harry's face again. His chest was still heaving and he wouldn't stop trembling. Then, all of a sudden, his eyes flew open and his hands were on the mattress, lifting him up. As soon as he met the emerald, confused gaze, Ron was sure that Harry was going to hit him in the aftermath of his dream. But then, Harry blinked hard several times, as if he couldn't believe that Ron was really there.

"Ron..." he panted, his breath hitching in his throat.

"It's me allright. Bad dream, huh?" Ron said sheepishly, withdrawing from the other boy, not knowing how to act. Harry's breathing was still ragged, and he looked at Ron as if he were drowning.

"Awful... it was fucking awful..." Harry stuttered, his voice thick and damp. To Ron's astonishment, tears started to trickle down Harry's pale cheeks, accompanied by quiet sobs that made him quiver again. Ron was flabbergasted. He had never seen Harry like this, never seen him so... broken, so utterly and completely vulnerable. His pain seemed to radiate out into the air around them, burning Ron's skin, making the black hole in his stomach widen. He was tired of always being the one who just sat there, and though he honestly didn't know what to do in such a situation; he did the first thing that struck him. He moved closer to Harry, leaned over to him and took him in his arms, pressing him against his chest. Harry immediately wrapped his arms around Ron's back, holding on to him as if he were his last hope. His heart pounded hard and fast against Ron's skin.

"You were all... dead. All of you..." Harry mumbled, hot tears pouring down Ron's shoulder.

"Schh, 's okay... I know..." Ron whispered against his neck, tracing his fingers down Harry's back, blood pounding madly in his ears. He had never been so close to Harry before. His skin smelled of sweat and fear and the smell of his hair made Ron's whole body stir. He ignored the feeling, along with what he felt when their naked chests rubbed together, pushing it back into the depths of his mind where it belonged. Instead, he rocked his friend silently, letting him claw at his back, letting him cry.

"... don't know if I can... take it anymore..."

"It's all right..."

Harry's sobs slowly died out, but his body was limp with exhaustion as he let Ron gently push him down onto the bed again, pulling up the duvet around him as he did. Ron found it strangely hard to break away from him, but he knew he had to, there was no other way. He promptly turned away from him, setting his feet on the floor, then letting his gaze fall at his freckled knees. There was not a chance in hell that he would get any sleep tonight. At that moment, Ron was immensely grateful that Harry didn't know just how much, and in which way, the embrace had affected him.

"Sorry for waking you." Harry's voice was soft, weak, and it struck a chord somewhere inside of Ron that made his heart jolt. He felt Harry's eyes against his back like hot iron, but he couldn't bring himself to turn around.

"You didn't. We should both be sleeping."

"... Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you just... stay for a while?"

The cold voice of better knowledge rang in Ron's head, bombarding him with reasons to why that was not a good idea, but he surprised himself by telling it to shut up. Then, with something warm and tingling bolting against his insides, he turned around and looked at Harry. In the poor light, he wasn't sure what he saw in his friend's eyes, only that it was something he couldn't deny. He gave a short nod, and he thought that he saw a faint smile on the other boy's lips. That small gesture was enough for him to not regret his decision to begin with. Though, as he crawled under the quilt that was held up by Harry, making sure there was a good amount of space between them before lying down, he silently wondered if it was possible for humans to split apart, to divide between body and soul. He glued his eyes to the canopy, his mind shouting with red alert, whilst his body was so eager to close the distance between them that he almost couldn't stop himself from actually doing it.

_Merlin, why did he have to smell so bloody good? _

For a while, Ron tried his hardest to focus on anything besides the warm body next to him. The folds in the duvet, the crystal in Harry's glasses on the nightstand that he saw through a slit in the curtains, the deep snores that came from Neville's bed... but somehow, his attention always drifted back to Harry. Ron admitted defeat and turned his head at Harry's direction. He was lying with his back against Ron, his hair a dark, bushy mess on the pillow, and Ron was enthralled by the fine lined, muscular shoulders he saw above the duvet. Ron himself had always been gangly and thin, but Harry... he looked like a piece of art. Long hours of Quidditch practice had made his body taut and smooth, and his skin was milky, flawless. Harry was shuddering, Ron suddenly noticed, as if he were cold.

"Hey..." Ron whispered, but he was too far away to reach Harry's shoulder with his hand. Therefore, he rolled over to his side and nudged himself closer to him. What he hadn't planned, however, was to end up _that_ close.

If it was just his clumsiness again, or if his body actually had developed an own will, he didn't know. All he knew was that he was suddenly spooning Harry, his chest against the same back he had been admiring seconds before, his nose imbedded in Harry's dark curls. Harry was naked. He could feel every inch of the other boy's body against his own, and his cheeks flushed as he realized that his groin was pressed against the soft, full curve of what must be Harry's arse... He was sure that Harry could feel his heartbeats pounding into his back, and the rich scent of Harry's hair was driving him mad. He had to move away, right now. But by attempting to do so, he managed to brush his lips against the nape of Harry's neck. _Oh. _

Ron lay paralyzed as a gasp escaped Harry's lips. _Oh, indeed. _

He licked his lips, they tasted of Harry and it felt so good, as if a piece of heaven had landed on them. And at that moment, Ron decided that something that felt like that couldn't be wrong. Chances were that Harry would hate him for it, but he just couldn't help himself. Ron closed his eyes and pressed his lips against Harry's neck, tentatively letting his tongue dab at his salty skin, tasting him. Harry's response sent a bolt of different sensations through him; his short, ragged gasps and the way he leant his head back to expose more of his neck made Ron feel happy, relieved and horny as hell, all at the same time. He sucked at Harry's skin thoroughly, leaving tiny red marks, his tongue gently flicking around them in lazy circles. His hand travelled up to Harry's shoulder and upper arm, caressing them, rubbing his chest against the other boy's back, the goose bumps there making his own nipples harden. Harry was groaning softly in a way that seemed to transfer invisible strokes to Ron's cock. _Gods, he was hard... _

Ron snaked his hand around to find Harry's chest, heaving and feverishly hot. His thumb found one of Harry's nipples, and he stroked it slowly before pinching it between his fingers, a little harder than he'd intended to. But at once he felt Harry suppress a moan with a strangled noise and arched his back up to meet Ron. His arse jutted out, grinding against the aching erection that was trapped in Ron's boxers. Ron clawed at Harry's hip with his clammy fingers and buried his mouth in Harry's neck to stop himself from moaning out loud.

"Ron, please... _touch me_."

Harry's voice was more like a hiss, and Ron felt a wet spot of pre-come staining his underwear as he continued to rub his erection against the other boy's arse with small thrusts. His fingers slid down Harry's hip, caressing the silky skin at his abdomen, lower and lower until they tangled in tiny, soft hairs. Harry moaned silently and jerked his hips upwards, the slick, swollen head of his cock slamming against Ron's fingers. Ron enclosed his fingers around the throbbing shaft, squeezing tight, then letting his slick index finger slide along the underside. Harry's gasped around the fist that he had placed in his mouth. Ron's vision was blurred by raw arousal and want. He entangled the fingers of his other hand in Harry's hair, kissing the sensitive spot behind his ear while his hand around Harry's cock began a frantic pace of strokes. Suddenly, Ron felt one of Harry's hands at his waist, tugging madly at his boxers until his weeping erection was freed. At the feeling of his own cock sliding against Harry's warm, soft cleft, Ron almost lost it. It was absolute bliss. Yet he had to fight back the strong impulse of burying himself there with all his might. Panting, temples sweaty and cheeks flushed, he kept pumping Harry's erection, so hard and hot and _alive_ under his touch, like nothing he'd ever felt before. Then, Harry's fingers returned, now coated in saliva. They dove in between the full cheeks of his arse, then grasped Ron's cock and guided him towards his entrance.

Ron was just going to ask if this really was what Harry wanted, but Harry grasped his hip, and before even a breath had escaped Ron's mouth, the aching head of his cock was imbedded in Harry's warm tightness.

"Ah-mhn..."

Harry's words were muffled by the fist in his mouth, but at that moment Ron couldn't care less if they woke up the whole castle. _This had to be a dream_. Surely, he couldn't really be spooning Harry now, jerking at his cock, _fucking_ him? But then, Harry's muscles contracted slightly around him, and he gave in to whatever it was. He jerked his hips forward, bringing down another stroke on Harry's cock for each thrust as he slowly sheathed himself in his velvet tightness. Nothing in the whole world had ever felt so right; they _belonged_ there, pressed hard against each other, gasping for air, entangled in pleasure... Harry dug his fingers into the duvet, and all that he managed was faint gasps. The feeling of the smooth heat around Ron was too good, too _incredible_... suddenly; he felt his entire groin contract as the powerful orgasm rippled through his body. He sank his teeth into Harry's shoulder as it sent shockwaves down his spine, clamping his hand hard around Harry's twitching cock, hot strings of seed spurting out of him into Harry's quivering body. Only seconds later Ron felt Harry tense, coming with his mouth open in a silent scream, his cum staining Ron's fist, his arse clenching tight around him, milking the last drops out of his spent cock.

For a while, there was nothing except their panting breaths and madly fluttering heartbeats. Ron felt numb, but the warm feeling in his gut wouldn't go away, and he found that he rather liked it. His fingers was still entangled in Harry's raven stands when Harry rolled around, facing his friend. He took Ron's hand, placing his arm around his back, and Ron held on, embracing him. When he met the beautiful, emerald gaze, so full of warmth and trust, Ron knew in his heart that he would die for Harry if he had to.

"Don't let me go."

"Never."

And finally, they slept.


End file.
